Pills Won't Fix This
by ExpandingDarkness
Summary: Sam is being held in a mental facility under the charges of being criminally insane. Rated T for future language and abuse. AU to the end of Season 4.
1. Prologue

"Your name is Sam Winchester, you were born May 2, 1983. You are currently 26 years of age. Your mother's name is Mary Winchester. She died in a car accident when you were six months old. Your father, John, is a Marine. Your brother, Dean, is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force. He is four years older than you and took care of you during your childhood when your father was away in the military. He followed in your father's footsteps while you made your own path with being accepted to Stanford with a free ride. At the age twenty-two, you murdered your girlfriend Jessica Moore and went on the run. Then you coerced your brother to join you, him having no knowledge of your crimes. Your girlfriend, Ruby Cassidy, was a further bad influence and Dean ended up killing her in self-defense when she tried to murder you. You were admitted to this facility days afterward. Do you have any recollection of these events, Mr. Winchester?"

Sam Winchester looked up from his hands that were resting atop the cold metal desk before him. His eyes were tired and there were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't bothered in glancing up when Jess was mentioned. There was no point in arguing his case. They wouldn't let him. They thought he was crazy. Who were they? The administrators of the mental facility that had taken his file and reviewed it, agreeing that he need to be put into the criminally insane ward. Sam hadn't had any say in anything since he was considered a criminal for a crime he had never committed. He hadn't seen Dean or anybody that he knew.

"No," Sam answered, staring at the female doctor in white without much emotion in his voice. It was the same answer he always gave.

"Well then, Mr. Winchester, that is a problem," the doctor, Dr. Belinda Matthews, said in response, "Your memory should be improving by now."

Sam looked back down at his hands, disinterested in what she was saying. All he had was his name and his memories of his actual life that they told him was a lie. He hadn't done anything wrong! Nothing in his memory came close to what Matthews had been preaching to him.

"It's not my memory," Sam shook his head, "What you say isn't true."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester. . .Sam. . .Sam, what I tell you is the truth. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Oh yeah?" Sam's head shot back up to glare at her with dark eyes, "Why should I take your word for anything? What you say doesn't match up to what's in my head. Explain that! You have to be lying because a person just doesn't create a set of memories in his head as detailed as mine!"

That was the most he had said in nearly a month to anybody. He had given up talking to the doctors once he realized that they were thoroughly convinced that he was off his rocker. Sam watched Matthews scribble notes down on a thin notepad inside his file. He couldn't read what it said from across the table, but he had a pretty good idea what it said.

"So, Sam, what is it that you remember about your life?" Matthews finally glanced up at him from her notepad, "Here's your opportunity to put me in my place. Tell me what you know."

"You won't believe me," Sam answered sullenly.

"Who says?"

Sam didn't reply immediately, but he did speak after a long moment of silence, "Jess died in a fire. I didn't kill her. Dean came after me to look for our father that had gone missing. Yeah, Ruby was a bad influence and Dean killed her to protect me."

"Hmm. . ." Matthews scribbled more down on her notepad, "and what did you--"

"Sorry, Dr. Matthews, but time's up," an orderly spoke through the door. The female doctor smiled at Sam, "Well, that's some progress, Sam. I'll be back as soon as possible so we can talk further."

Sam watched her leave and then the orderly from the door came inside the room and unchained him from the desk. Sam stood and stretched his legs before the orderlies led him back down the corridors to his cell.


	2. The Voice

A/N: Slight spoilers for 5x01 "Sympathy for the Devil"

* * *

Sam sat on his bed and stared at the barred door. With a sigh, he laid back and studied the ceiling next. Prison would be a lot more interesting than this place. At least in prison you were treated like a person. In here, you were treated like a nut job that was going to die sooner or later so there was no point of treating him decently. He didn't really care at the moment though. Between the stink of sweat, the yellowed sheets of the bed, and the deafening silence that permeated the air, Sam knew it could be tremendously worse. He could think of a billion different scenarios how it could be worse. At the top of the list was his brother Dean's stay in Hell. That was the worst he could imagine.

The ceiling seemed to spin at times, but Sam knew that was probably due to the fact that he was malnourished since he hadn't been eating. Plus, the demon blood that had run through his veins had created a hunger that couldn't be staved. After he and Dean had been plucked from the church where Lucifer had risen, he had felt cleaned out, but then it came back a billion times worse. The urges were the worst when it was completely silent. Being plucked from the church and plopped down in a plane arose a question. How did the Apocalypse just miraculously end and he was committed to an insane asylum with a completely different history? That's basically all he thought about. No answers came to mind, however. There was no explanation that he could prove or justify that would make any sense.

Then again, his life had rarely made any sense whatsoever. This could be no different. Maybe all of this was a hallucination or something that the demon blood had brought on. Maybe something supernatural had gotten ahold of him and was forcing this reality on him. Anything was possible. Sam had a pile of questions, but no shovel and was essentially screwed until he saw someone from his reality. He doubted that would happen. The administrators would probably keep anybody he knew far away from him since he was "criminally insane" and would be "influenced by familiar external sources".

A clicking sound buzzed at his heightened hearing and crashed through the silence of the cell block. Sam lifted his head for a moment in curiosity that quickly died. The clicking sound died as soon as it came. Rolling over to his side so that he was facing the wall, Sam closed his eyes. Where was Dean? Was he alright? After what Dean had said to him in the parking lot of the hospital, Sam did still care about Dean like ever. If not more now that the Apocalypse was upon them. Well, it had been in his reality.

Sam frowned and opened his eyes back up when the clicking began again. It was distinctly shoe heels tapping against tile. The clicking grew closer and a moment later, Sam heard a voice that made him jump, "Sam?"

Sam rolled over to where the door was, "What do you want?"

"Just to talk."

The voice seemed familiar, but Sam couldn't pinpoint it. He didn't really care who it was anyway. Whoever they were, he didn't give a damn about them unless they were going to get him out of his cell and out of the mental institute.

"Talk about what?" Sam asked with weary suspicion. He was tired of the doctors and psychotherapists trying to pick his brain apart. They wanted to know what his reality was like and he couldn't tell them. He would never get out of there that way. Then again, telling the doctors that that reality they were trying to feed to him wasn't matching his memory wasn't very convincing.

"Just whatever topic you want to talk about," returned the female voice. Sam couldn't see there person at the door, but knew that it was a familiar female that he quite possibly knew.

"What I want to talk about?" that was a new once, "How about I ask you when I'm going to get the hell out of this place."

"I don't know the answer to that question, I'm sorry, Sam," answered the voice, "What goes on here is out of my jurisdiction. I can't help you."

"Then why are you here?"

"To keep you company."

"To keep me--" Sam echoed before halting, "Great."

There wasn't a reply on the other side and Sam asked after a long moment of silence, "Hello?"

Silence.


	3. Lucifer Past

_He's coming. _

_Sam, let's get out of here. _

Sam was transfixed by the light coming from the floor emanating from the depths of Hell. He felt his brother gripping his shirt through his jacket. The grip was tight and laced with fear that Dean rarely expressed. Dean began to pull at him to move toward the door and the younger Winchester followed in a daze. Terror gripped his heart as his feet were in motion. The devil was coming to Earth and he and his brother were in the way. Plus there was the fact that he had began the Apocalypse under the influence of Ruby's demon blood. He had betrayed his brother and began the end of the world. How could this get any worse?

Slamming into the splintering wooden door that had closed abruptly in front of them, he was jolted out of his morbid reverie. Dean beat his fists against the door in desperation, but the door wouldn't budge. Then the ringing began. At first it began as a low whine, then it grew in intensity to a roar. Sam clapped his hands over his ears before the screeching became too painful to bear. He began to sink to his knees in both pain from the sound and exhaustion and felt his knees bang against the stone floor. He doubted that he could get up again. He was on the brink of passing out and knew that if he died that day that he would die on that floor like Lilith and Ruby.

His eyes burned, thus making him squeeze them shut. Sam lowered his head to his knees as the ringing reached the peak of it's intensity. Then it felt like his body was electrified. Every cell in his body rose an inch from a shock and Sam jumped in startlement. Then he realized the ringing had stopped. He opened his eyes tentatively, relieved that they weren't burning anymore. He discovered that he was in his cell in the unnamed facility just how he had been.

Staring at the white walls all around him, Sam felt his heart thump in his chest from the terror that had grasped him tight. He lifted his head and further became aware that he was on the cold tile floor of the cell. How had he gotten there? Maybe he had been acting out the dream. . .rather, the memory.

Before he could think over what had transpired, he heard footfalls in the corridor heading toward his cell. He was the only one in that cellblock, so they had to be coming for him.

"Sam Winchester?" came an eerily familiar voice, one that made a chill run down his spine. Sam recognized the voice, but knew that hearing it again would be quite impossible. Even for him.

"Yeah?" his voice was shaky as he picked himself off of the floor, "Who is that? What do you want?" the harsh rawness gave an edge to his voice that indeed made him sound like a madman. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins at the same pace as the demon blood had.

"I'm Doctor Ramsey and I'm just here to speak with you."

"Whenever somebody here says they want to just talk to me, they're really here to psychoanalyze me," Sam replied when the door opened. Then his eyes widened at the man at the door. His heart stopped beating for a moment before restarting at a breakneck velocity. No, not him. Anybody but him.

"I'm not here to psychoanalyze you, Sam," Ramsey answered with an amused chuckle.

"You don't have to, I guess," Sam's breath came out choppy and his voice was shaky, "You're an Angel."

"I'm a what? Are you alright, Sam?" asked Ramsey with concern as he approached. Sam merely stared at him instead of responding. He studied Ramsey's face with a mix of horror and astonishment. How could somebody be dead, annihilated from all existence, be alive and standing in front of him? How could Uriel the Angel be there in front of him, posing as a doctor, and not be dead?


End file.
